Nathan sat on the edge of his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The day's chaos played like a loop in his mind—Vicky's fury, the crumpled notes thrown at his face, and the awkward yet magnetic moment when they had accidentally collided… and kissed. The memory burned into him like a mark he couldn't scrub off.
Meanwhile, across town, Vicky sat hunched at the dining table with a steaming cup of stale tea and her laptop open. Her eyes skimmed through dozens of unread emails—job applications she'd sent out, desperate pleas for a chance, each one unanswered. The silence stung more than rejection.
She sighed, rubbing her temples. "No callback… no interview… not even a damn typo reply."
The next morning arrived damp and moody. The rain from the night before had left muddy puddles everywhere. Vicky was up early, dressing her siblings and walking them to school. Afterwards, she headed to the store to restock her goods—the last batch ruined thanks to him.
As she stood by the roadside, waiting for traffic to ease, a black Range Rover splashed by with reckless speed, slinging muddy water straight onto her outfit.
She gasped, drenched and stunned. Slowly, she turned to wipe herself down, gritting her teeth.
The car screeched to a halt.
Inside, Nathan sighed deeply. "Oh, shit... not another drama today."
He jumped out, heart pounding, cursing his luck. He approached her from behind, where she was squatting, wiping mud off her arms and picking up a few coins that had spilled from her carrier bag.
"Are you alright?" he asked, cautiously.
She didn't answer. The silence was heavier than her soaked clothes.
"I'm so sorry, ma'am. Honestly," he added quickly. "I'm in a hurry. I've got to be at work by eight…"
Vicky froze, her fingers pausing mid-air as the voice hit her like a lightning bolt. Slowly, she turned, catching his hand in hers. Nathan stopped, confused… and then, they both stood, locking eyes.
Recognition struck like thunder.
"You…" they said in unison.
Nathan quickly yanked his hand back. "You're always in a hurry, Mr. Charming. Better leave before you're late," Vicky said coldly, brushing past him.
"Are you serious right now? Must I see you every morning?!" Nathan barked.
Vicky turned halfway, her voice sharp. "Are you a monitoring spirit? Because I'm tired of bumping into you too, trust me!"
"You think this is about me being rich and arrogant, don't you? You think I care?"
"I know you don't care. That's the problem."
"I don't have time for this," Vicky said, walking off, wet dress clinging to her back like a badge of misfortune.
Nathan kicked at a loose stone on the road, fuming. "Just when I thought I had a blessed morning from Granny's tea—this necromancer shows up!"
He climbed back into his car and sped off.
Elsewhere, at Natasha's apartment...
She stood before her mirror, adjusting her blazer when a sharp knock echoed through the hallway.
"I will find you, Paige…" she murmured under her breath as she walked to the door.
She opened it to find a single box on her doorstep. She carried it inside cautiously, slicing the tape open.
Inside: a death certificate. An autopsy report. And a sealed urn.
Her phone rang.
"Robert?" she answered.
"I got a box too. Natasha… it's Paige. Her ashes… and her autopsy report."
Natasha blinked, barely breathing. "What? No—no, this doesn't make sense. We've been asking for this for months! Why now? Just after Aid was stolen? No. No way."
"I'm with you," Robert replied. "But how do we test this? We don't have Paige's DNA, and Aid is gone…"
"Damn it," Natasha hissed. "Let me come to the office. We need to talk about this face-to-face."
She hung up, staring at the box like it was cursed.
Back at the store...
Vicky picked out snacks and fruit, mentally calculating her profits. Nathan's car pulled up outside. His workers began offloading stock, oblivious to the growing storm between their boss and the girl wiping apples on her skirt.
At the Shikongo Mansion...
Catty stood in front of the mirror, applying lip gloss with forced determination.
"I don't get it, Cinthia," she said. "I bought him flowers yesterday… he didn't even notice them. They were on the floor like trash."
"Catty… I honestly don't know what to tell you. I've never had love, not the kind that moves a man like Nathan," Cinthia said from the bed.
"This morning I wore a sexy nightie. Went into his room to wake him up, and what did he do? Got up and made tea—for Granny!"
Cinthia smiled bitterly. "That's Nate's strength… and weakness."
"What do you mean?"
"He's marrying you to stop Granny's madness, Catty. To fulfill her dream of seeing her son married. Not because he loves you."
Catty froze, pain flickering in her eyes as she met her own reflection.
Cinthia walked over and sat beside her. "Look, I'm sorry… but this is Nathan Shikongo we're talking about. Right now, focus on the marriage. Once you live together, share a bed… that's when you can start building something real."
"You're right," Catty said quietly. "We're not marrying for love. But I won't stop trying."
She picked up her purse and walked out.
Cinthia watched her go, her own heart caught somewhere between pity and helplessness.